Lyrics Sewed Up - Q Da Fool

Zaytoven
What's up Zay?
Uh, this how niggas live and shit
I just be tellin' what niggas be goin' through

I got a real low number on some pure weight
The feds out early so we movin' late
Thirty bands on the lawyer, I went through a case
And them Glocks, they paranoia, they go through your face
These niggas ran out on a foil, all they jewelry fake
And I wore it to counter, bitch you can't be late
When that .223 hit, got you amputated
These rappers fakin', man these niggas livin' in they imagination
If you a rat, must get exterminated
I'm strapped up like the Terminator
Bitch said she never fucked
Fuck her, you'll be burnin' later
Dirty bitches, I don't want 'em
I'm only worried 'bout the paper
Bitch see you later
Sip tips like you a waiter
Thirty bullet count, not one get wasted

We throwin' it up
We got all the gats and the guns
All this weight on my back, man it feel like a ton
I'm twenty years old with two sons
If you the gang, we gon' hunt
We done bought our son the run
Bullets eat him like he lunch
Shooters posted in the back and the front
Cook a lot of yola
Can't serve it if I do not know ya
Know the game sick, ebola
I'm workin' like a motor
Uh, sewed up
I got it sewed up
I make the chop blow up
I got the streets sewed up

I make the trap blow up
Heron blow your arms up
I just picked a bomb up
Might as well get you, need to get you one
Get you one and flip you one
Money come, decisions come
Should I spray him, should I kill him?
Man I'ma kill him
That nigga done
Put that bread on his head, that nigga done
I can finesse the panties off a nun
I might finesse a nigga just for nothin'
Street sewed up from the suburbs to the slums
Dig in her throat, watch the bitch hum
Law roll where I'm from
'Fore I leave the house, bitch I load the drum
You ain't tryna get no money, you a bum

We throwin' it up
We got all the gats and the guns
All this weight on my back, man it feel like a ton
I'm twenty years old with two sons
If you the gang, we gon' hunt
We done bought our son the run
Bullets eat him like he lunch
Shooters posted in the back and the front
Cook a lot of yola
Can't serve it if I do not know ya
Know the game sick, ebola
I'm workin' like a motor
Uh, sewed up
I got it sewed up
I make the chop blow up
I got the streets sewed up